


Grace in Awkwardness

by sevenofswords



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Awkwardness, Gen, Light Angst, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 03:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9800549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenofswords/pseuds/sevenofswords
Summary: Young Sephiroth is socially out of step at a Shin-Ra function and sometimes takes things more literally than they were meant.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware that this short fic might seem like an attempt to give young! Sephiroth traits of something he may well not have. This is not meant to be taken as gospel, it's just my take in a quickly written thing.

The youth wore a suit; beautifully tailored, suiting the sweep of his long silver plait, yet a little too old for his age somehow, as if it had belonged to an adult of the same size. He walked with measured step, his eyes taking in the room, watching those who watched him enter.

He directed one quick look at the dark-haired man who walked beside him; they were now nearly the same height, instead of the man being taller.  
"Over there," said the man, nodding at a chair at one of the tables; it was at the front of the hall. The Director, also sitting at the table, nodded at them both as they approached.

The youth sat at the table as directed, his long silver braid falling neatly behind him. He responded with a nod to each of the others at the table, who greeted him warmly.

Up at the podium on the small stage, one of the others began talking. Praising Shin-Ra, praising recent efforts and missions, mentioning Sephiroth's involvement in destroying monsters that had been summoned in a battle. Upon being nudged and whispered to by the fellow next to him, the silver-haired youth stood, waited for a moment as people clapped, nodded, then sat once more.

The event began properly. Food was served, and wine, and music played. People talked to each other.  
Part way through, Sephiroth rose, and made to leave. 

"No, wait," said the dark-haired man. "Unless you need to go to the...?"  
Sephiroth frowned.  
"Then stay. Another twenty minutes should do it, then you can leave. It's your first time, you won't have to stay for the whole thing."  
A woman across the table smiled at Sephiroth. "Yes, stay! They're here to see you, too, you know. Stay here and relax. There'll be dancing soon."  
Sephiroth's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "You think that I should dance?"  
"Well, maybe, yes, not right now, but when the others start dancing..." The woman trailed off a little, then looked around her, then looked back at Sephiroth for a moment, giving another vague smile and shrug, before she started a conversation with someone next to her.

The youth reached for the glass of watered wine that had been placed near him, and when no one said he should not drink it, had a sip, then another. A small shrug followed.

It was not long before someone got up at the microphone again, tapped a glass, made a toast, and then pronounced it time for dance. The musical quintet began a new piece of music: graceful, lilting, with more energy even though its pace was no faster.

Some of the other adults at the tables got up to dance. Sephiroth rose also.

"Good for you," said the woman, pink lipstick smiling at him. Sephiroth's brow furrowed once more, then he joined the others who were dancing.

The music rose, lilted, lowered.

He began to dance.

 

It was as if the music itself had come to life. Swirling, rising, dipping, the long limbs and silver braid of the youth were astoundingly graceful to watch, effortlessly describing the violin refrain. The dancing was like, yet unlike the movements he used when wielding sword in battle, giving an effect that was both ballet-beautiful and unsettling.

It was also entirely _un_ like the handful of pairs of men and women who had been dancing a self-conscious waltz in the center of the room.

Some of the others stopped dancing; a fair number stopped talking. People stared. Someone coughed.

Becoming aware of the change in surroundings, the youth slowed, and then stopped dancing.

An awkward semi-silence came over the room, with only the music still playing. Then some person started clapping, and a small if hesitant round of applause broke the tension.

A couple of young men near the back of the room sniggered to each other, making comments under their breath.  
Sephiroth stared at the others, then stared at the two who had laughed. He frowned, more intensely than before.

"Thank you," he said coldly. "Good night."  
And with that, the silver-haired youth left the function.

The next time Sephiroth attended such a function, he had perfect manners and said the right things to people, even adding a few words of his own. And there was no repeat of the dancing faux pas. Shin-Ra had invested in the project that had created Sephiroth and the youth was fast becoming everything they could have hoped for both as a weapon and a potential poster-boy; it was no skin off their nose to give him some proper teaching in how to socialise.


End file.
